


Damn Cat

by thenerdyindividual



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Fluff and Humor, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Gwaine Flirts (Merlin), M/M, Meet-Cute, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29691087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdyindividual/pseuds/thenerdyindividual
Summary: Someone falls of Merlin's fence. Good thing they have friends (and Gwen and Arthur's cat) in common, otherwise being asked out for a drink would have been very awkward.
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 70





	Damn Cat

Merlin slides his key into the lock on his door, and pushes inside. He had argued with Will like mad about which flat to take because the upstairs had thicker walls, and they wouldn’t have to deal with the noise of people walking on the floor above. Now, though, he is glad they took the bottom floor. He would rather die than admit such a thing to Will, but climbing up a flight of stairs right now sounds like hell.

He is coming off a twelve hour shift that was meant to only be six. Someone vomited on him, so he had to change into the extra scrubs he keeps in the middle pocket of his backpack, the ones he never uses because they are about a size too small and somehow itchy despite being made polyester and neither knitted nor made from wool. His feet hurt. He has a tension headache building behind his eyes because the doctor on duty spent the day berating the nurses for his own incompetence. Merlin is starving, exhausted, and in a foul enough mood to throw something.

Arthur swears up and down that throwing things is actually very therapeutic, but it’s far easier to say that when you have enough money to fix any dents in the walls. Besides, he hasn’t been prone to throwing things since Gwen and Morgana forced him into actual therapy to deal with his Uther Issues. So what does he know really? He also keeps telling Merlin to invest in a car, and that riding his bike to and from work is inefficient and dangerous. Merlin’s subsequent arguments that sitting in London traffic is far more inefficient than biking or taking the tube are ignored.

Merlin yanks the door closed behind him, locks it, and drops his backpack on the floor next to the bookshelf they put up to demarcate the entryway. He leans his head back against the door with a heavy thud, and closes his eyes for a moment. When the room stops spinning, he straightens up and shuffles into the living room.

“Will?” he calls out, “You home?”

He gets no response. That doesn’t mean anything. Will has been working nights lately, he could be sound asleep. Merlin shuffles through the sitting room and pops his head into Will’s bedroom. His bed is empty. Either he is already at work, or he is at his new bloke’s house. Either suits Merlin just fine. All he wants is a quiet night just to himself.

He shuffles into his bedroom, deposits his jacket over the back of his desk chair, and collapses on the end of his bed. He stares into space for several minutes, willing himself to summon the energy to strip down and get to the shower. Finally he heaves himself to his feet with an almighty groan, toes off his shoes, and wriggles out of the hell scrubs. He’ll start a load of laundry once he’s out of the shower.

He drags himself into the bathroom and takes a couple of paracetamol while he waits for the water to heat up. He stands under the spray, completely zoned out, until he remembers that there is a drought in California and hops to. He is well aware that he doesn’t live in California, and that his water usage doesn’t affect a drought halfway around the world, nor does it compare to the water usage of corporations, but his mother drilled environmentalism into him since he was wee. He has no hope of shaking that now, despite being nearly thirty. 

He dresses in sweat pants and an old shirt, collects his clothes, and wanders into the kitchen. The combination of shower and painkillers has been a massive help. He feels nearly human again. He tosses everything into the washing machine, returns to the entryway, retrieves the plastic bag with his vomit soaked scrubs, and makes a mental note to bring Freya those strange biscuits she likes that can only be found at the one specific Hungarian bakery. Without her donating the bad she was using to hold her lunch, he would have had to leave said scrubs in his bag without any protection. 

He rinses out the worst of the vomit in the sink, tosses the scrubs in with the rest of the load, and starts up the machine. He washes his hands for good measure and makes sure to toss out the plastic bag. He steals one of Will’s beers out of the fridge. He’ll get bitched at later, but Merlin will just remind him of all the times Will ate the last chocolate bar growing up.

He leans against the sink, with the backdoor that leads into the communal backyard to his right, and takes a sip of the beer. He is contemplating what to make for dinner, when something large and dark flickers out of the corner of his eye. He frowns and turns to look out the back window, but doesn’t see anything. Probably just a trick of the light.

Then he hears a loud curse and disgruntled meow that sounds suspiciously like Kilgharrah’s. 

He sets down his beer, charges out the back door, still barefoot, and comes to an abrupt stop just beyond the last of the back steps. There is a man in the flower beds. Said man sits up, and makes a desperate lunge towards something, and Kilgharrah goes streaking out from the flower bed, evading the man’s grip.

“Ah! No!” the man says, trying to stagger to his feet.

“Kilgharrah! Stop!” Merlin shouts just before he can squirm through the loose boards in the fence and disappear into the alley beyond.

Ignoring the man for the moment, Merlin hurries over to Kilgharrah and scoops him up. With the wayward cat tucked firmly under his arm, Merlin returns to his back door, and deposits Kilgharrah inside. He will take him next door to Gwen and Arthur’s once he figures out why the man was trying to wander off with Merlin’s Best Friends’ cat.

The man has struggled to his feet by the time Merlin steps back outside. He rubs his palms on his jeans, hissing at the contact. He probably scraped them up when he fell.

“Can I help you?” Merlin asks cautiously.

The man looks up and offers a roguish, if somewhat sheepish, grin in return, “Already did, mate. My friends would’ve killed me if I lost their cat.”

“Your friends? You know Gwen and Arthur?” 

“Known Arthur since we were kids. Boarding school.” The man replies and staggers less than gracefully from the flower bed, “I’m Gwaine.”

“Merlin.” Merlin introduces himself automatically.

Recognition flickers over Gwaine’s face, “ _You’re_ Merlin? Arthur talks about you all the time. He complains about you never coming to get drinks.”

“He’s my best friend, but I work as a nurse. I’m usually too exhausted to go out for drinks.” Merlin explains and finally approaches Gwaine properly, nurse instincts taking over, “You alright? How did you end up in the flower bed?”

“I went to take the garbage out and the little fucker slipped right between my ankles and made a break for it. I got over the fence just fine, but trying to get back over one handed with an uncooperative cat tucked under one arm presented some unique challenges. Thank you again, by the way, for stopping him. I didn’t know cats could follow commands like that.”

“In all fairness, I am the only person Killy actually listens to. Come inside and I’ll clean those scrapes for you. I know Arthur has a first aid kit to rival a hospital, but he’ll probably get irritated by you messing up his system.”

“He would at that.” Gwaine agrees cheerfully and follows Merlin inside. 

Kilgharrah makes another attempt to go rocketing passed their ankles, but Merlin has enough practice to nudge him out of the way with his ankle. He leads Gwaine to the bathroom and digs his own first aid kit out of the under cupboard sink.

“So you’re cat sitting for Gwen and Arthur while they’re on holiday?” Merlin asks just trying to make conversation.

Gwaine tosses his ridiculously pretty hair out of his face and extends one hand to Merlin so he can clean out the scrape on his palm with some of the rubbing alcohol, “Arthur said their usual cat sitter was out of town.”

“Prat.” Merlin complains, “I was visiting my mum.”

“Little beast usually falls to your care then?”

“On the rare occasions Arthur can be convinced to take a vacation, yes. I offered to let my flat mate do it while I was out of town, but Will hates Arthur, and Killy hates Will.”

Gwaine chuckles, eyes crinkling up handsomely. Merlin notices, absently, that he has a really nice nose.

“Well that’s all sorts of disastrous.”

“It might have been a better choice considering you fell off my fence.” Merlin jokes. He is so used to taking the piss out of Arthur and Will it doesn’t occur to stop himself from saying something rude. Thankfully, Gwaine takes in stride and just smiles wider than before.

“Do me a favor? Don’t tell Arthur that story. He will never let me hear the end of it.”

“I don’t know, it might finally make him stop teasing me for the time I got drunk and tripped over a stool.”

Gwaine fixes him with truly impressive puppy dog eyes, “Please, Merlin? Spare me the humiliation?”

“Fine. Fine. I won’t tell Arthur.” Merlin agrees with a grin, “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so.” Gwaine says and bends his arms experimentally, he hisses a little at the movement and shoves up the sleeve of his shirt. At first Merlin is distracted by the tattoo of what looks like a balloon animal dog on the inside of his bicep, but the interest is put on hold when the same gesture exposes a skinned elbow that would put a child learning to ride a bike to shame.

Some rubbing alcohol and a creatively applied plaster later, and Gwaine is good as new. He stands up from his position sitting on the lid of Merlin’s toilet, and stretches. Merlin thinks he catches just the very bottom of a tattoo on his ribs before the shirt settles back into place.

“I’m going to be feeling that for a few days.” Gwaine jokes and pushes his shirtsleeve back down.

“I would recommend avoiding falling off of anything for a week at least.”

It makes Gwaine chuckle again. 

“How did you end up cat sitting?” Merlin asks as they leave the bathroom behind, “I mean, I know you said it was because I was out of town, but usually they just ask Elyan or Morgana to do it.”

“I haven’t always been the most responsible of their friends.” Gwaine admits, “Arthur met me when I was going through a bit of a rebellious phase that I took several steps too far, and you know how he is. He inspires you to be your best self whether you like it or not.” Merlin has experienced it a time or two himself even if it was usually the other way around, so he nods. “I was trying to show him I’d changed. Then the damn cat made a jailbreak attempt. Speaking of, where did he go?”

“Oh he’s hiding under the sofa.” Merlin answers. 

“How did you know that?”

“It’s where he always goes when he’s over here. I think he likes the dark.” 

Merlin leads the way into the sitting room, kneels down behind the sofa, shoves his hand underneath, and hauls Killy out by the scruff of his neck. He bundles him up into a manageable cat-ball, and deposits him in Gwaine’s arms. 

“You’re a cat whisperer.” Gwaine says, sounding genuinely awed. 

“We all have our special gifts. You good to get back?”

Gwaine grimaces, “I dropped my keys in Gwen’s flowers in my rush to get over the fence. I think I’m locked out.”

Merlin shakes his head, already feeling a bit fond of Gwaine. He can see why Arthur is still friends with him. “I have a spare. I’ll let you in.”

“You are a god send.”

Merlin unlocks the front door to Arthur and Gwen’s place, wishes goodnight to Gwaine, and starts down the pavement back to his flat. A hand catches his elbow before he can get very far, and when he looks back, then realizes the hand belongs to Gwaine.

“You can’t have lost Killy already.”

“No, as far as I know he’s still inside tormenting one of his feather toys.” Gwaine dismisses with an amused smile, “I wanted to ask you something before you got back.”

“What’s that?”

“Would you let me take you to get a drink sometime? You know, as a thank you?”

A grin spreads across Merlin’s face, and he nods, “Yeah. Alright.”

Gwaine’s smile turns wide and triumphant, and he presses a quick kiss to Merlin’s cheek before going back inside.

Merlin makes a mental note to have Arthur give Gwaine his number since Gwaine forgot to ask in his excitement.

**Author's Note:**

> As I'm writing this, I currently have a scraped elbow from --you guessed it-- falling off a fence trying to carry my dog over it one handed. *facepalm*


End file.
